


Journey's End

by Denise



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kleenex warning/ Character Death</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey's End

Title-  Journey's End

Author- Denise

Category- Angst

Season- Future

Spoilers – Various vague ones

Rating- PG

Content Warning- Kleenex warning/ Character Death

Summary- Title says it all

Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Sci-fi and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author

 

Yes, I know, cheesy idea. Been done before, it'll be done again but I was in a mood. <G>

 

 

Journey's End

By

Denise

 

 

 

 

 

 

I will tell you this…your journey's just beginning.

 

Cassandra watched the quartet walk up the ramp, smiling when Sam paused, turning back for one last look, then hurrying forward, vanishing through the shimmering cerulean puddle on her way home, this time not traveling through space, but time.

 

The wormhole snapped shut and silence rushed in to fill the void. She'd never noticed just how oppressive the silence was. Of course, every other time she'd been in the facility it had been brimming with life. Voices echoing off concrete walls, the heavy booted footfalls accompanied by the whirr and buzz of thousands of fans, some on computers, others in the ventilation system.

 

The mountain had been alive back then, it breathed and spoke, protected and even bled.

 

Now…now it was silent, quiet and still as a crypt. The walls radiated cold and darkness seemed to be a permanent feature, lurking in the corners, unwilling to release its hold.

 

She heard the soft clang of the steps and sighed. She should have known she would come…that she lacked the willpower to stay away. "They never even looked up," she said as she carefully finished descending the stairs from the briefing room.

 

"They might have," Cassandra said, feeling the need to drive her point home. Sam, of all of them, knew the dangers of risking a temporal contamination.

 

"Trust me, they didn't have time," Sam said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, smiling at her own pun. Whispering was how they talked here now, anything else seeming disrespectful and rude.

 

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Cassandra asked, pulling out a chair for Sam to sit in as she noted the pain in her friend's eyes, the sad cast to her smile.

 

"We were so young," she said, ignoring the question as she sad. "I'd almost forgotten what Teal'c looked like with his tattoo."

 

"Sam—"

 

"It was my last chance, Cassie," Sam interrupted. "I had to see him…one last time," she said, absently rolling the worn golden band that rested loosely on the fragile skin of her left hand. For years, she hadn't worn it, too afraid to lose her last reminder of him…until the day she noticed that arthritis was making its presence known and she'd slipped it on her finger, barely able to get it over the swollen knuckle. That same knuckle was why it wouldn't come off now and she took peace in knowing that it was a permanent part of her.

 

"Don't talk like that," Cassie chided, like she always did when Sam's thoughts took on a morbid tone.

 

Sam merely gave her a look and turned, pushing aside a sheet to reveal a long ago abandoned keyboard. She deliberately stiffened her shoulders, not wanting to reveal to her friend just how trying and tiring her trip to the mountain had been.

 

She rested her fingers on the keyboard. It was a different keyboard than she'd used when she'd worked here and a different input interface than they used up on the surface. In fact, more than once she'd heard the terms antiquated and obsolete used when folks talked about Cheyenne Mountain.

 

Pushing the sheet aside more, she revealed the palm scanner and she laid her hand on its contoured surface remembering the hundreds, maybe thousands of times she'd done it before, opening the iris for a friend, depending on it to keep threats at bay. Was it just her imagination, or did the molded plastic feel warm under her palm?

 

"We should go," Cassie said, interrupting her reminiscing.

 

"In a minute," Sam said automatically.

 

"Sam, it's cold down here and the ventilation systems aren't running, it's not safe."

 

Sam shot her a look saying silently just how unconcerned she was. Cassie sighed. "Fifteen minutes," she relented. "Or I'll drag you out of here by your hair."

 

She stared at Sam for a second, holding her gaze until she nodded her acceptance, then turned and left the room.

 

Relieved to finally be alone, Sam got to her feet, impatiently pulling the dust covers off console after console, revealing them to the dim light for the first time in years. They were so quiet and still, seemingly at peace, their placid façade belaying the vibrant memories they held.

 

Davis used to sit in that chair, his quiet presence and professionalism an island of calm for years before a drunk driver on I-25 ended his life.

 

She remembered standing in that very spot the day they'd received word of Jonas' death, a tearful message sent via radio by his daughter. She'd learned of a lot of deaths in this room. Narim, Thor, Warrick…even her father.

 

Those dust covered speakers had also been the bearers of good news. The birth of Jonas' daughter, Nafreau's marriage, word of the death of the last goa'uld.

 

She got up and walked slowly towards the short flight of steps, passing the small alcove on her way. Even in the dim light, the white letters of the star chart still gleamed. She wondered if the rumor was true? That General Hammond had snatched a kiss from his second wife there, barely concealed by the transparent wall. She knew that was one retirement gift he'd never expected, for fate to give him a new soul mate to spend his last years with.

 

Gripping the railing firmly, she descended the stairs and walked around the corner into the gate room. Even now, decades later, it still held the power to amaze her. What a wondrous thing it was.

 

'Oh please, who talks like that?'

 

'She's out there somewhere, Jack.'

 

'That would be my job.'

 

'Sho'nac, tell mah veriunte shree. Tell mah.'  
  


'Apparently, I'm the oldest and wisest among us.'  
  


'Ya sure, ya betcha.'

 

'We're inside a mountain. The stargate obviously can't fit thru any of  these doors ...'

 

'Shouldn't the EM pulse generator be pointed AT the gate?'

 

`'You have the heart of a warrior, Jonas Quinn.'`

 

Au revoir. It's French. It means ciao. Ciao means adios. Auf wiedersehen. Sayonara.

 

Silent sobs. Echoing Taps.

 

Shouts of joy, screams of pain.

Awards ceremonies, fierce battles and the odd wedding.

 

This room saw it all. That ring saw it all. A silent witness to their trials, tribulations, triumphs and tragedies.

 

The guns were gone now, long ago dismantled and likely melted down, leaving the gate alone with no guardians, no protectors, a lonely sentinel to their lives.

 

Stepping up onto the ramp, she slowly walked up the rough surface, smiling at the familiar sound. That odd metallic echo had come to mean so much to her, to all of them. That sound meant that they were home.

 

Halfway up she stopped and kneeled, running her fingers over the cold surface. Teal'c had died right here, struck by friendly fire from a well-meaning recruit. His familiarity had contributed to his death. They forgot to warn the recruits that there was one Jaffa who was safe, one Jaffa that wasn't a threat, but an ally.

 

They forgot to tell him, no matter what he was wearing, he was a friend.

 

And so, returning from an infiltration gone wrong, he came through the gate, dragging the colonel behind him, the recruit fired…saving them from invasion…and fatally injuring their dearest friend. She'd held his hand as he'd died, shed tears that had mingled with his blood. She heard his last words, watching the light fade from his warm eyes as Daniel prayed, quietly reciting ancient words in an extinct language, hoping to ease his friend's passage into the after life.

 

He wasn't the first to die in this room, and he wouldn't be the last. He wasn't the last of her friends to die either. One by one, they all died. One by one, she'd laid them all to rest. Time and time again she stood beside the coffin, staring at its flower draped surface, her eyes dry as she listened to the same words of comfort and prayer repeated over and over. She'd memorized them, she realized one rainy November afternoon when the young chaplain, nervous about his first funeral, dropped his book in the mud and lost his place and she recited the words, finishing the service for the last of her team.

 

She'd gained another title that day—Widow.

 

Her husband had been the last. The last of the original teams, the last one to have been there at the beginning, to have seen it all.

 

Totally alone, she withdrew from the world, gathering the last fragments of her life with her. Jack's cabin was furnished with some of Daniel's stuff, including the piano whose melancholy melody was often her only companion. Teal'c's candles kept her warm at night, filling the cabin with a golden glow as she would look out the window, watching the stars as they made their timeless, endless journey across the sky.

 

She hadn't been back here in years, decades if she was honest. She hadn't wanted to come back. Hadn't wanted to see how it all changed, how they'd all been forgotten. How time had turned them from people into names in a database, footnotes in a history book, pictures in an exhibit. She was part of the past, not the present or the future. She had no reason to be here.

 

Until now.

 

Now, it was time.

 

Without warning, the gate opened and she ducked, throwing herself to the unforgiving surface of the ramp.

Her heart pounding in her chest, she laid there, barely registering the heavy clang of boots, barely noticing the dark shapes that impinged upon her vision.

 

Gentle hands grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. She stared in amazement at the small group gathered before her, stepping forward in response to their welcoming smiles and open arms. Spying the one face she longed for more than any other, she stepped forward, burying herself in his strong arms.

 

"Let's go home," he said, releasing her and taking her hand in his, their fingers twining together.  They walked back up the ramp and through the welcoming embrace of the Stargate.

 

 

 

Cassie walked into the room, her impatience and worry fading as she caught sight of the figure sitting on the ramp. Slowly she stepped forward, knowing what she'd find but still compelled to find out for sure. She climbed up onto the metal surface and knelt at Sam's side. Instinctively, she reached out and took the woman's wrist, her eyes filling with tears when she felt the slack muscles in her grasp.

 

She stared at her friend, frowning at the slight smile on the woman's face.

 

"Cassandra?"

 

"She's gone, Ry'ac," she said softly, gently laying Sam's hand in her lap.

 

She heard him walk closer, moving to kneel at her side. "She looks happy," he said.

 

"She's home," Cassie said simply, leaning to kiss Sam's forehead. "She's home."

 

 

~Fin~

 


End file.
